


Comfort and Protect

by icandrawamoth



Series: Love's Oldest Enemy 'verse [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Men Crying, Platonic Cuddling, badthingshappenbingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 23:09:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15716997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth
Summary: “I couldn't sleep,” Wedge says dully. “The bed is too empty.”“Three people will make ours nice and cozy,” Hobbie says and gently pulls Wedge into the room.





	Comfort and Protect

**Author's Note:**

> Badthingshappenbingo prompt: cry into chest.

It's late. Hobbie has fallen asleep, snoring soft and comforting in Wes's ear as he stares at the ceiling in the dark. It's been another long day of grief and trying to figure out how to move forward. With Wedge gone to the Graveyard to deliver Tycho's ashes, the Rogues were restless and, not knowing them, there wasn't much Hobbie and Wes could do but be there and try to impart some kind of experience-driven wisdom. It was just painful and tiring for everyone.

There's a knock at the door, and Wes sits up, squinting in its direction. Who would it be coming for one of them at this hour?

“Whazzt?” Hobbie mumbles as he shifts under the covers.

“Dunno.” Wes flips on the bedside lamb and pads over to the door, hitting the panel.

It slides open, and there stands Wedge, looking pale and exhausted, in rumpled standard-issue military pajamas and bare feet, gaze on the floor.

“I couldn't sleep,” he says dully. “The bed is too empty.”

Wes's heart breaks for him. He looks so tired, so broken down. Wedge has always been strong, but of course he can't be expected to just walk through losing the man who was his best friend and partner in every way like nothing happened. Apparently the simple absence of a body beside him in bed is just the latest flare of pain.

Wes looks over at Hobbie, sees the same concern echoed in his blue eyes. It's only a moment of silent conversation before Hobbie moves forward and lays a hand on Wedge's arm.

“Three people will make ours nice and cozy,” he says and gently pulls Wedge into the room.

Wes closes the door again and turns the light to its lowest level before going to join them. Hobbie has already drawn Wedge into the middle of the bed, chest to his back with an arm around his waist. Wes slides in at Wedge's front and wraps his own around his shoulders, rubbing his back a little.

“Is this all right?” he murmurs.

Wedge nods silently.

“We didn't know you were getting back today,” Hobbie says. “We would have come to meet you.”

“It was only an hour ago. I tried to go right to sleep.”

“You're been through a lot in the last few days,” Wes says gently. He smooths a frazzled lock of hair sticking up from Wedge's head. “It makes sense that you're tired.”

“It's so hard to sleep, though,” Wedge whispers, and when he looks up to meet his eyes, Wes has to catch his breath. Tears fill the brown orbs, and pain, so much pain, and Wes knows there's nothing he can do to dull it. “I just want him next to me. It's like-” One hand raises from the bed, makes a sort of futile gesture before dropping again. “I hurt. Inside and out. And I keep thinking, if he could just hold me- And then I remember that's the reason.” Wedge swallows hard and meets Wes's eyes again. “I miss him.”

The words are so simple, so innocent, but they say so much. “I know you do,” Wes whispers, stroking his hair again like a mother might do with a sick child. “I'm sorry.”

Wes watches Wedge's face as he tries to figure out what to say next, but apparently he's run out of words, because a second later his expression cracks open and he's crying again, quiet sobs that shake his shoulders as he collapses in on Wes, burying his face in Wes's chest. Wes wraps both arms around him, entwining them with Hobbie's as they hold him close between them like there's any possible way they can protect him from this.

“We've got you, Wedge,” Hobbie murmurs.

“You're safe here,” Wes promises, resting his cheek against Wedge's hair, giving him as much comforting contact as he can. “We'll give you whatever you need.”

“Just – stay,” Wedge whimpers, the words muffled into Wes's shirt. “Please.”

“We're not going anywhere,” Wes assures him gently.

“We're all yours,” Hobbie agrees. “As long as you need us.”

It's not quite true. They'll need to be back with the Talons soon enough – the New Republic and the fight against the warlords and the remnants of the Empire won't wait, regardless of personal tragedy. But they'll certainly give him every iota of time they can eke out.

Wedge nods against Wes. Then he turns his head to speak again, the words wet and trembling. “It hurts so much. I can't- I can't-” He chokes on a sob. “It's not going to feel like this forever, right?”

“No, Wedge.” Hobbie squeezes his arm reassuringly. “It'll get better. It just takes time. I promise.”

“How do you know?” Wedge whimpers. “You've never-”

“You're right, I haven't.” Hobbie catches Wes's eye over Wedge's shoulder, looking for help Wes isn't sure how to give.

“Wedge,” he tries. “I know this only helps so much, but you've lost people before. And you've gone on. I know none of them was like Tycho. I know this hurts more, and it'll probably take longer, but it will fade. Trust us.”

“I want to,” Wedge whispers through his tears as he hides his face in Wes's chest again. “I really want to.” He loses words once more, just crying and shaking between them on the bed.

Wes doesn't know what else to say, how to help. He simply holds him for what feels like a very long time, grateful when at long last Wedge's tremors ease and his breathing evens as he exhausts himself and slips into sleep. Wes squeezes his eyes closed for a long moment and lets out a breath of relief.

“Are you okay?” Hobbie asks softly, and when Wes opens his eyes, Hobbie reaches to touch his cheek.

Wes almost nods before he thinks better of it and simply slides his own hand over Hobbie's, holding him fractionally closer. “Managing,” he says.

Hobbie nods, and the movement makes dim lamplight catch the sheen of tears in his own eyes. He looks down at Wedge. “I'm scared for him.”

“Me too.” Wes follows his gaze, gently, gently thumbs away a tear still poised on his friend's cheek.

“Do you really think he'll be okay?”

“I think he'll be like this for awhile,” Wes says. “But I think he'll get better. He has us, and he has the Rogues, both as support and as duty. You know how good he's always been at that. It'll help him, to have something to do. He'll need people watching over him, though, to make sure he doesn't overdo it.”

“What will the squadron do for an executive officer? None of the others are qualified, and I haven't heard of anyone going spare.”

Wes frowns down at Wedge for a long moment, then looks up at Hobbie – the same time Hobbie looks over him.

“The Talons are nearly ready to be commissioned,” Hobbie says.

“We've always talked about coming back to the Rogues someday,” Wes says.

“There are two of us and only one spot open.”

“I'm sure we can figure something out.” Wes looks down at the man in his arms. “I'd do anything to help him even a little.”

“Me too.”

Wes takes their hands from his face and rests them on Wedge's side, still intertwined. “We'll talk about it in the morning.”

Hobbie nods. “I love you.” They've always meant the words when they said them, but it's even deeper now, now that every time they look at each other they think _it could have been one of us._

Wes squeezes his hand as they rest their heads on the pillows, still cradling Wedge between them. “I love you too, Hobbie.”


End file.
